Rags to Riches
by Alecthegreat
Summary: A man's journey from a quaint life to working for Mr. Vercetti as a bodyguard
1. Chapter 1

AN: Well, here it is, my very first GTA story. Only a few minor things before we begin. Alexander Fediro is my own character. I own him. Everything else, including characters, groups, locations, and items belong to Rockstar Games. That out of the way, here we go.

He sat quietly in his office, going over yet another budget adjustment. What a boring life. He yearned for adventure something to do besides sit behind a stuffy old desk.

He glanced sideways at the small clock on his desk and frowned when he saw it read 12:30 A.M. He had been working late. Well at least he didn't have a disappointed wife to go home to like some of his coworkers.

He shut the book he had been working in and stood up, stretching his back. With two quick strides that seemed to be the way he often walked he was at the door. He snatched his coat and pulling it on he left the office, flicking the lights out and locking his door.

There was nobody outside at this time of the night. With rising crime within the city too many people were afraid to go out. It was understandably dark and lonely as his car continued down the road, lights turned on.

He had been listening to the dreary sound of his radio as Maurice Chabez continued his tirade about some idiotic thing. The stupid spic never shut his damn mouth.

Alexander Fediro had lived in Vice City for 7 years now. Unbelievable happenings had taken place in his time there. As a two-year residence middle-aged psycho named Tommy Vercetti gunned down a dozen or so men before killing the local Drug Baron.

Alexander didn't see anything wrong with that, so what if those grease balls wanted to shoot each other to death. The only issue _he_ had with it was that so many people got caught in the crossfire. His annoyance soon turned to something akin to horrified respect however when he read a few weeks later that that same man who had taken over had shot another few dozen men to death before killing his partner and a mob boss all the way from Liberty City.

After those incidents Vice City had been pretty decent. The Cuban/Haitian war had ended when both sides bloodied each other so badly they couldn't even attempt another war. Things had settled down. Avery Corrington was rebuilding the city.

What Alexander didn't know was things were going to be getting a lot more interesting for him. His pale blue Washington made it's way across the bridge onto Starfish Island. He had lived in one of the smaller houses on the island but even so, it was truly palatial compared to what the rest of the island looked like.

As his car made it's trek down the road it was quickly cut off by a dark black Patriot speeding down the wall. Alex spun the wheel quickly, trying to avoid a car accident, he had just gotten his car repaired from the last one, and ended up skidding into the sidewall of Vercetti estate.

He leaned over quickly and opened the glove box. He was smart enough to carry a gun, and his hand closed around the Beretta he practiced with every weekend.

He kicked the door open and slid bodily from the slightly smoking car. He made his way out onto the side walk and then stood up as well as he could, his legs aching from when they had smashed into the steering wheel. Unfortunately he hadn't been going at a high enough speed for his air bag to pop out and his rib cage ached as well.

He could see the bright spit of gunfire as men dressed purely in black poured from the patriot. Normally he wouldn't have thought going anywhere near that but….he felt a chill thrill of adrenaline rush through his veins as he made his way down the side walk.

The attackers had really powerful weaponry so he moved with slow, careful thought. They had already broken through the out defenders and from what he could see they were fiddling around with the front door. Seconds later the door flared up and exploded into splinters.

He moved quicker after that. He had no idea what was urging him forward, he should have just went home, barred the door and got out a few of his hunting rifles for protection. Instead he was racing over a split in the wall, moving quickly across a blood stained lawn.

He watched as men poured through the forcibly opened door, watched them get cut down in a shower of bullets. At least these Vercetti guy's could hold their own. He winced slightly as another loud bang echoed from inside and five men were thrown from within the building. He watched them roll down the stairs and he saw a moment of opportunity.

Alexander rushed forward quickly, pistol raised. He didn't really have to bother though. None of them were looking his way. He put the Beretta in his pocket as he picked up a much larger and far more deadlier M60 and MP5. He slung the lighter weapon over his back with the attached sling, checked the action on the M60 and then slowly made his way up the stairs.

At this point any living man from the attack force was inside. He mumbled a quick prayer before standing up. His hand pressed the trigger down and the heavy weapon thudded against his shoulder as bullets spewed from it. The heavy hot lead met flesh often enough as he rained fire down and across the entrance way, men dressed in black going down quickly.

Alex moved from his place behind the white column and stormed in through the doors. He could here fire off in the distance. It was of no matter however. Not right now. At the top of the stairs he could see flashes of light, here the sounds of a Spaz-12 shot gun barking at those who'd come to silence it's master.

He slowly moved forward up the stairs and his heart thudded as the sound of the shotgun stopped. There was a clattering and shouts and he quickly looked up. A man in a blue Hawaiian styled shirt was fighting with two attackers. Neither had their weapons. Alex dropped the M60 and quickly pulled the Beretta from his pocket. The pistol was a lot less powerful so there wasn't much chance of it piercing through the attackers with enough force to hurt the man, who he assumed, was Vercetti.

Alexander moved quickly forward and shoved the barrel of his pistol into one of the attackers back's and pulled the trigger 4 times. The man fell backward and hit the floor even as Alexander brought his pistol down on the second attackers head.

Alexander was looking up, just about to speak to the man who literally ran Vice City when he felt a sharp pain go through his back. He fell over backwards, his vision fogging and slowly going black as he saw Tommy Vercetti heft his Spaz-12 from the floor and fire, blowing the man dressed in black across the floor and sending him spiraling down the stairs, ass over end. Then all went dark.

AN: Well, here it is, my first chapter of my very first GTA story. Hope you like it. Review. And to end off this section of author's notes, any racial discrimination was not intended, the view of the character's in this story are the character's views, not this author's.


	2. The offer

A/N: Well, here we are again to join Alexander Fediro on his rise up in the Vercetti command structure. I'm not one for long notes so I'm just going to go ahead and begin the story, but first, the disclaimer.

Disclaimer: This author owns very little. In fact, he doesn't even own the computer he's working on, sad really, isn't it? The only thing he does own from this story is Alexander Fediro.

Alexander Fediro slowly awakened from his coma. He'd been sleeping for nearly a week now and the only thing on the man's mind right now was where the hell was he and why the hell did he feel like the Vice City Mamba's had run over his back?Before he could come to any conclusions however, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Alex tilted his head to the side, sending yet another spasm of pain down his back, to see whom the 'visitor' was.

The faces of two tall men, wearing tropical looking clothing, and dark sunglasses, making it impossible to see their eyes, greeted the twenty-seven year old paper pusher. They were the typical 'bruiser' types, with their bulky arms and chests. Obviously they were bodyguards. He had to stop himself from snorting however when he saw who they were 'guarding'. If anyone was guarding anybody it was the middle-aged man between the two bruisers. That man, he knew from pictures in the news, was none other than the mass murderer Tommy Vercetti.

Alexander had to admit though, at first glance, though imposing looking, Vercetti didn't look all that dangerous, however he also knew that nothing was as it ever seemed in this world.

He watched the man make his way with poised grace over to his bedside, draw up one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs and take a seat. Alex watched Vercetti study his face with careful precision before nodding and a slight smile broke out over the drug baron's features.

"I'm not going to bullshit you around Mr. Fediro, you know who I am and I obviously know who you are. I've got to give you a hand of thanks for what you did for me back there. Even got wounded in the process. What I wanna know Mr. Fediro, is why you did it?" Tommy sat back in his chair, crossing his legs and waiting for the answer.

So….there it was. The question that he couldn't answer for himself and he thought it a bit funny that Vercetti would want, quietly demand really, an answer to it. He couldn't get a proper answer for himself so instead Alex just made up an excuse that anybody who lived in Vice City for any amount of time could accept.

"Those bastards made me wreck my car, I couldn't let them get away with that." Alexander spoke like a pro with a cocky confidence. He knew how to address and talk to people, to gain their trust. He worked with a lot of people in his current job and you had to learn those types of social skills to survive.

Vercetti's own face split out into a smile of it's own as he heard the answer. The man knew it was complete bullshit but it didn't matter. What mattered was that he could most defiantly find a use for a man like that in his organization. And that was what the Drug Baron had come for. He came to ask for Alexander's skill. Tommy recognized the potential in a man like Fediro and he knew how potentially useful it could be to him. So he would cultivate the man's skills. He would use them. Make him better.

"Well Mr. Fediro, I think a man like myself could use a guy like you in my profession, as you could obviously tell, times are about to get very interesting in Vice City. I'd like to offer you a job." Alexander nearly choked when he heard that.

Tommy frickin Vercetti was offering him a job, a well paying job with unbelievable benefits. He'd be stupid not to take the offer, he also knew the risk that came with that job though, and so he looked very thoughtful.

Alex hated making decisions like that; he was the kind of guy who planned things out first before carrying them out. He hated spur of the moment things. Luckily for him Vercetti helped that.

"Why don't I let you think on it Mr. Fediro, give you time for your injuries to heal." Vercetti took a card out of his pocket and handed it over. "This is my contact information, when you make your decision, just give me a ring." Vercetti held out his hand and after a few seconds, Alexander took it in his own and gave it a few good shakes before letting go.

With a final departing good-bye, Tommy Vercetti, most powerful man in all of vice, walked from the hospital room, and even as he did so Alexander Fediro was turning onto his side, deciding on what it was he was going to do.

A/N: Well, there it is. The second chapter in my Rags To Riches story. Hope you all liked it. Review.


	3. The Answer

**The Answer**

Alexander Fediro flipped onto his stomach, trying to get as comfortable as possible. The bullet wound in his back wasn't making that easy, but the young man had even more on his mind then the pain in his back.

Not for the first time he found himself glancing at the table that held the small white card on it. Vercetti Inc. was printed neatly on the front of it and a few numbers were spackled here and there. Alex was still quietly debating on the proposition, but he was finally ready to make his decision.

Reaching over and grasping the phone in the palm of his hand Alex punched in a few numbers from the card and held the receiver up to listen. He waited with baited breath and finally sighed out when the phone was picked up.

"Mr. Vercetti's office, Angela speaking, how may I help you?" The woman had a pleasant soprano tone, the only thing that was slightly vexing was the Brooklyn accent attached to it.

Alexander tired to speak, but there was something blocking his passage way. He strained for a second before clearing his throat and then he tried again. "This is Alexander Fediro, I'm calling in reguards to a job offer by Mr. Vercetti."

There seemed to be a pregnant pause on the other end of the line before the voice spoke up again. "Of course sir, please hold and I'll transfer you over now."

Alex waited quietly, contemplating what he was going to say, when he felt his heart flutter against with a nervousness as a gruff, but strong voice answered. "Mr. Fediro, I was hoping to hear from you again. I assume you have an answer to my offer?"

He nodded slightly, but then felt foolish, realizing the other man obviously could not see him through the phone line. "Yes Mr. Vercetti, I decided that I'd very much like to take a job from you."

Alexander could practically hear the smile on the other line as the man responded. "Excellent, call me back when you're released from the hospital and I'll send someone to pick you up." And with that the man who ran Vice City hung up.

Fediro flipped over yet again, and sat back against the bed, contemplating as he thought of what his decision might mean for him in the long run.

A/N: Yeah, I know it's really short but things are going to heat up in the next chapter, I promise.


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